The Case of the Ivory Comb
by quibblequeen
Summary: Two brothers are found dead on the coast of a tropical island. The only clue to their fate is an ivory comb. Can Holmes unravel the mystery, and acquit the Captain's daughter of the charge of murder?
1. Chapter 1:Jupiter Changes Its Orbit

A/N-Another one of the cases that Watson mentions briefly in the opening paragraphs of "A Scandal in Bohemia". Dedicated to my sister, and "Aditya", who re- introduced me to a passion of my childhood- the Sherlock Holmes books.

Also a special thanks to my reviewers- KCS, Westron Wynde, and Susicar- for their kind encouragement.

_-of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers in Trincomalee-_

A Scandal In Bohemia

* * *

The Case of the Ivory Comb

Chapter One- Jupiter Changes Its Orbit

_The following is an extract from an undelivered letter written to me by the late Sherlock Holmes, seven__ months after my marriage to Mary Morstan, chronicling the details of the tragedy concerning the Atkinson brothers. Despite my friend's assurances to the contrary, I have found that it is quite a compelling tale in its own right, and so have left his work unchanged. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the kindly members of the public who have sent me their condolences regarding the loss of my friend. _

_John H. Watson, M.D._

_1892_

My dear Watson,

It has been more than six months since you deserted me for the pleasures of matrimony, and yet, I find your absence almost impossible to realize. Indeed, even now, when I come across a case, I find myself starting up with a cry of "The game's afoot, Watson!" only to remember that you are, of course, not here.

I must confess that when I met you several years ago, I never dreamed that you would one day fulfil the role of my biographer, much less that I would be compelled to take up the position myself in your absence. As it is, Watson, I find myself privy to yet another of your irksome habits- that of writing narratives of my cases. But pray do not be alarmed, my dear Doctor, for it is not my intention to publish these narratives. I hardly expect that readers accustomed to your florid style of writing would appreciate my own rather bland approach to this task, instructive as it may be. In any case, I have often told you that I prefer to discuss my work with those who take an intelligent interest in it. While you yourself can be said to belong in this category, the same can hardly be said of a large section of the British public. I therefore leave this material in your hands to reproduce as you see fit.

Since your absence, Watson, I have been involved with no less than half a dozen cases, of which two are still awaiting their conclusion in the courts of law, and three I have chronicled elsewhere. It is of the one remaining that I wish to write upon at the moment. It is a singular case, my dear chap, and I have no doubt that you would have thoroughly appreciated its novelty.

It was a fine morning in mid-March. I had just finished my breakfast when the doorbell rang.

"A note for you, sir, from Mr. Mycroft Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said.

"From Brother Mycroft?" I said incredulously.

"Yes, sir. Here it is," and she handed me the note.

I thanked her and tore open the envelope.

The note was scrawled hurriedly on a piece of foolscap, in a hand I could barely recognize as my brother's. It ran thus:

"Sherlock:

Come to the Diogenes club at once. A matter of great importance has presented itself to me, and I am in need of your assistance.

Mycroft."

I sat awhile and pondered over this matter. Mycroft, as I may have mentioned to you, Watson, is a man of routine rather than a man of action. If he was sending me a missive in such a hurried fashion requesting my assistance, I had no doubt whatsoever that it was required.

But what was the "matter of great importance"? I have told you, Watson, that Mycroft worked for the government. It seemed likely, therefore, that this matter concerned the government in some way. What, then, was this peculiar case about?

I was saved from having to make any further deductions, however, for at that very moment, the doorbell rang. I heard the sound of muffled voices downstairs, then footsteps upon the staircase, then, a moment later, the door flew open to reveal none other than Mycroft himself, with a sombre-looking naval officer in tow.

"Well, well!" I exclaimed, laughing, as I rose to receive him. "I believe that the universe is coming to an end! Brother Mycroft, I can honestly say that you are the last person I expected to turn up on my doorstep to-day. Pray come in."

My brother advanced into the sitting-room, looking about him with an air of distaste.

"I wonder how the good doctor managed to put up with you for so long, Sherlock," he said." Your untidiness is as pronounced as ever."

"Why, thank you," I said lightly. "Although to your credit, brother, I see that you have not altered your habit of descending into a respectable gentleman's rooms without even knocking first."

Mycroft snorted. "_You_ are hardly a respectable gentleman, Sherlock,"

"If you say so, Mycroft," I retorted. "But we are, I fear, ignoring our guest. Do sit down, Captain, and pray take no notice of our banter."

The naval officer, who had thus far remained silent, stepped forward. He was a rather stout man of about sixty years of age, not less than six feet in height. He had a certain commanding air about him, as befit any senior officer of high standing. He was dressed in uniform, and a cursory glance at his shoulders revealed the familiar curl that announced his rank.

"Captain White, this is my brother, Sherlock," said Mycroft. "Sherlock, this is Captain White, of the Royal Navy."

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes," the officer said, shaking hands warmly. "I have heard of you, sir."

"Another reader of the _Strand_ magazine, no doubt," I laughed.

The captain flushed.

"Your name is known in all of Europe, Mr. Holmes," he said.

"My blushes, Captain!" I said. "But surely you have not come all the way from the tropics in such a hurried fashion to compliment me upon my work."

"You know me, then?"

"No, I assure you I know nothing of you, sir, save that you are recently returned from Ceylon, that you were a boxer in your youth, that you have an unmarried daughter, and that you were very devoted to your wife before her death."

My client looked astounded.

"My good sir, this is shocking."

"Not at all," replied my brother. "Your tanned face, as opposed to the pale colour of your wrists, shows that you have served in the tropics for some time. I myself would have suggested Afghanistan or India, were it not for the fact that a Ceylonese coin hangs from your watch chain."

"But what of my wife, and my daughter?"

"You wear your wedding ring upon the ring finger of your right hand, which shows that you are a widower. You wear no outward signs of mourning, save perhaps a certain sadness about the eyes, so your loss cannot be a recent one. The fact that you still wear your wedding ring in such a fashion, even after the traditional period of mourning, shows that you held your wife in great esteem. Yet your handkerchief is clean, and your collar well-starched. Do you employ a valet, then? Perhaps, but not likely, as you are a Captain, and while you appear to be of reasonable means, you cannot be said to be extraordinarily wealthy. There is obviously a lady in your house. You are yourself somewhat advanced in years, so it cannot be your mother. It must, therefore, be your daughter."

"And the boxing?"

"That is more easily answered, my dear Captain," I said. "Your ears show that peculiar flatness that I have observed only in the boxing man."

The officer looked from me to my brother.

"My word," he chuckled.

"But let us waste no more time in talking of trifles," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Brother Mycroft, I am most curious to know what brought you, of all people, here at this hour, and what the good captain here has to do with the matter."

"A scandal, Sherlock, a scandal of the first order! You have heard, no doubt, of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers in Trincomalee?"

"No, I must confess that I have not."

My brother shook his head in some impatience.

"I had an idea you might have not," he said, presently, "so I took the liberty of bringing this along."

He handed me a newspaper cutting. It was evidently taken from the _Times, _and could not have been more than two weeks old, judging from the quality of the paper.

"Tragedy in Ceylon," it ran. "Two brothers were found dead in the town of Trincomalee in Ceylon last week. The victims have been identified as Major Robert Atkinson and Mr. Mark Atkinson. Major Robert's body was found on the shore of the Trincomalee beach, while Mr. Mark Atkinson was found in the backyard of a small tavern off the coast. Experts agree that Mr. Atkinson had died within a few hours of his brother's death. However, they are as yet uncertain as to the causes of the two deaths. Both men were young and quite healthy at the time of death. Major Robert's body, despite being found on the shore, showed no signs of drowning whatsoever, and no signs to indicate a struggle, save a couple of bruises on his forearm and neck. Mr. Mark's body, on the other hand, was perfectly unmarked, and it is speculated that he died of some sudden shock, although what could have caused it is a mystery unto itself. "

"Quite singular, indeed," I said, handing back the newspaper cutting to my brother. "But I fail to see a scandal in the matter."

"Well, the fact is that it has been quite two weeks since the tragedy occurred, and yet the authorities have not found a scrap of evidence to shed any light on the matter. They have brought in experts from just about everywhere, but the mystery remains unsolved."

"Do they at least have a theory on what might have happened?"

"Ah, there lies our problem, and the possibility of scandal. Some speculate that it is a random incident, others that there is some political hand in the affair. Most of the theorists are, however, of the opinion that-"

Here my brother broke off, much to my surprise, and cast a dubious look at the captain.

"What is it, Mycroft?"

"I will tell you, sir," cried the Captain, with a sudden passion. "They are saying that my daughter murdered the major and his brother. My poor little Rosie, sir, who wouldn't hurt a fly in her life!"

He buried his head in his hands with the air of a man in utter despair.

Mycroft looked at me rather helplessly. He is something of a recluse, as you may recall, Watson, and although he is not as impassive as I am, he is easily discomfited by such displays of emotion. Perhaps this is one of the reasons that he prefers government service to detective work, where his matchless talents could no doubt be put to good use. In any case, it was up to me to resolve the situation.

"There, my good sir," I said gently, handing a glass of brandy to my visitor. "I understand that you have some great burden on your mind. Pray drink this. You have no doubt a tale of your own to tell, and it is best that you compose yourself first before you attempt to tell it."

The old captain swallowed the brandy in one gulp. Then, after a few mumbled apologies to me and my brother, he began, with an effort, to tell his tale.


	2. Chapter 2:The Captain's Tale

The Case of the Ivory Comb

A/N- This is my first multi-chaptered fic. Enjoy! And please review.:)

Thanks again to KCS, Chewing Gum, and Westron Wynde- I'm a whole hearted admirer of your works (that includes all three of you) and your encouragement means a lot to me. And Susicar- don't worry, English isn't my first language either, and I appreciate it a lot that you took the time and effort to review.

No offence is implied to anyone of any racial group in the following chapter.Thought I would stress that,just in case.

Disclaimer- Sherlock Holmes, Watson et al are all creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I'm just playing with them for a while…

Chapter Two: The Captain's Tale

"You were correct in all of your deductions, Mr. Holmes, save one- I have _two _daughters. One is my own daughter Beatrice, who is twenty-eight now. She was but nine when I enlisted in the Navy and went away to China. After her mother died, she went to a boarding school in Wales. Upon graduation, she lived with her aunt in Wales for five years, before coming to Ceylon to live with me."

"The other is Rosaline. She is, in fact, my stepdaughter- the daughter of my late second wife, a Ceylonese woman. She is barely eighteen- a dark-eyed, fiery lass quite unlike her mother. She speaks both her native tongue and English quite well. In her younger days, she was looked after by an _Ayah_, while I took it upon myself to teach her reading, writing, and the rest. Rosie is a sweet girl, Mr. Holmes, if rather unorthodox in her manners. She has quite a temper, but she would never, ever, harm anyone- I am sure of that."

The captain paused, and then looked at my brother and me rather fiercely, as though daring us to contradict him. When neither of us did, he drew a deep breath and continued.

"There are many British families living in Ceylon, and in the naval base at Trincomalee, but we are shunned by most of them because of my marriage to a Ceylonese woman. Consequently, we do not usually attend social gatherings, even when we are invited. My daughters do not mind this in the least. Beatrice attended many parties and balls when she was living in Wales, and she, as she puts it, 'has had enough to last a lifetime.' Rosaline, on the other hand, prefers the company of her family and Nature to that of her peers."

"One day Mrs. George Duncan, the wife of a good friend of mine, invited us all to a small dinner and dance to be held at their house in Kandy. I was inclined to refuse at first, but it occurred to me that Rosie was nearly eighteen now, and it was time she made her debut into society. Hence, I asked her if she would like to attend. To my surprise, she agreed. So it happened that the three of us journeyed to Kandy the next day, to attend the little gathering. It was there that we first met Major Atkinson."

"He was a fine man, only three-and-thirty in spite of his rank. He had just arrived from England, and was quite dashing in his uniform. The girls at the party swooned over him, (so said my Beatrice), but it was Rosaline that caught his eye. He danced with her for most of the night, and when we were preparing to leave, he came up to me and said he would hope to call on us soon, as he would be visiting his brother in Trincomalee the following week."

"I was surprised, but not altogether pleased at this new acquaintance. All fathers feel a little protective of their young daughters, especially when the mother is not there to advise their naïve children. I was half hoping that the major would not come, and that his would merely be a passing fancy."

"But the Major was as good as his word, for he appeared on our doorstep the very next Monday. Afterwards, he became a regular visitor at our house. He often took my daughters out riding or for a walk by the beach. I say 'daughters,' but, of course, he was most interested in Rosie, and he soon became fast friends with her. To Beatrice, he was quite polite, but never more than a casual acquaintance."

"One day, Beatrice and I both journeyed to Kandy to see the Duncans. Rosie was a little unwell, so we left her at home. When we returned, it was almost nightfall. While Beatrice went upstairs to change into her dinner clothes, I went to my study. Presently, there was a soft knock at my door, and Rosaline came in.

" 'Father,' said she, softly, 'Major Atkinson proposed to me to-day'."

"I was speechless."

" 'When?' I asked of her.

" 'In the afternoon, when you were both out.'"

" 'And what was your answer?'"

" "I said I would tell him to-morrow,'" she replied.

" ' Do you not love him, lassie?'"

" 'I honestly do not know, Father,' she said thoughtfully. 'I have always regarded him as a friend, nothing more."

" 'Well, then, dear, think carefully, do as your heart says, and remember that I will stand by you, no matter what your decision will be.'"

She embraced me then, and nothing more was said of the matter that night."

"Then, on the following day, we were seated around the breakfast table when one of our maids rushed into the dining room."

" ' What is it, Karunawattie?'" I demanded of her.

" ' It's the major, sir," she said, gasping for breath. 'He and his brother were found dead this morning.'

"We were all struck numb at the news. Rosaline sat petrified for a minute, then crumpled into her chair and dissolved into silent tears. Even Beatrice turned very pale and rushed out of the room."

"As for myself, I could scarce believe the blow that had fallen upon my dear little daughter, for I knew that in her heart, she _had_ cared for him. I tried my best to comfort her, but she would not listen, and she ran upstairs and shut herself up in her room, where she remained till sunset."

"In the afternoon, a pair of constables came to call."

" 'Is Miss Rosaline in?'" asked one of them.

" 'She is very ill, sir, and is confined to her room,' I replied. " 'May I know why is it that you wish to see her?'

" 'We have received intelligence that Major Atkinson came to visit her yesterday, before his unfortunate death. We need to ask her a few questions regarding what happened between her and Major Atkinson yesterday."

" ' In that case,' said Beatrice, coldly, " I beg that you will come later, sir, for my stepsister cannot entertain visitors at the moment."

"The constables bowed reluctantly, and were on the verge of leaving when one of them turned back and held out something to me in his hand."

" 'This was found on the shore, near Major Atkinson's body,' he said. 'Do you recognize this, sir?'"

"I took one look at it, and my blood ran cold. It was a comb, Mr. Holmes, an ivory comb- just like the one my Rosaline used."

The captain turned away, momentarily overcome by emotion.

I whistled softly.

"Quite interesting," said Mycroft, who had been listening intently. "Pray continue, my good captain. What happened after they left?"

"The constables returned the following day. Rosie was still pale, but she answered their questions as best as she could. She insisted that the comb was not hers, that she had had a similar one, and that she had lost it two days ago. In response to a query, she told them of the Major's proposal to her, but refused to answer any questions as to where she had been between the time of his leaving and the time of our arrival."

"Indeed!" I exclaimed. "And why was that?"

"I asked her, but she would not tell me, Mr. Holmes."

"Tut, tut! This rather complicates matters. Have any charges been brought forth against your daughter as yet?"

"Not yet, but I have reason enough to believe that the police will do so. No other evidence has been found so far, and already there are rumours spreading at the naval base that she killed the major, and his brother died of shock upon learning the news."

"Ah, yes- the brother. Tell me, Captain, what were your family's relations with Mr. Atkinson?"

"We only met him once, Mr. Holmes, when the Major invited us to his house for tea. He was two years younger than the Major- a tall, thin man, with a sallow face. He was a planter, and owned a few hundred hectares of land in Nuwara Eliya. He was a man of few words, and was not as amiable as his brother was towards us."

"Did the brothers have any living relatives, in Ceylon or in England?"

"No, they were orphans, Mr. Holmes. The Major told me as much."

"There is one thing I wish to clarify, Captain White," interrupted Mycroft. "Other than the fact that her comb was found near the body, what reason could anyone have for believing that it was indeed your daughter who committed the crime?"

The captain flushed a deep red He fidgeted in his chair, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Two days before this incident," he said, slowly, "one of my neighbours has seen the Major conversing with my daughter in the garden of his home. The Major had said something to my daughter, and she had become very angry with him .At first, he had tried to placate her, even catching her wrist at one point, but she had retaliated with an angry retort, which had incensed the Major. A violent quarrel had ensued between the pair of them. His brother had appeared on the scene soon afterwards and tried to resolve the situation, to no avail-indeed, she had railed at him as well. At length, she had stormed out of the garden in a fury. When I questioned her about it, she said there had been a minor disagreement, but that they had resolved it later onwards."

All at once, it became clear to me why the captain was so agitated, and the true extent of the scandal that could be caused, were the Captain's daughter to be convicted.

"So they are under the impression that the Major's attentions were-shall we say, unwelcome to your daughter, and that she murdered him for this reason?"

The captain nodded, not meeting my questioning gaze.

"But that seems scarcely credible."

"It's a lie, Mr. Holmes, a blatant lie!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet, his eyes flashing in anger. "They would not even dream of suspecting her, were she a British girl or even a European. They are only latching on to her because of the colour of her skin!"

"Pray calm down, my dear Captain," I said soothingly to the officer. "Mycroft, if you would come this way, please."

My brother and I left the anguished Captain in the sitting room, and went on to my bedroom for a little private consultation.

"Well, what do you make of it, Sherlock?"

"I am not convinced that the girl is innocent, but I am not entirely convinced of her guilt either. It seems to me that there are other forces at work here."

"Precisely," said my brother, crisply. "Had I more details, I would have certainly be able to concoct a sound theory, but I have none, and in any case, we require proof. And that, brother mine, is where_ you_ come in. I fear a trip to Ceylon is in order for you."

"It certainly does seem that way," I remarked dryly. "Although I am most curious to know how you came to be involved in the matter."

Mycroft sighed.

"The Captain came to meet me at the Diogenes Club early this morning. Fortunately, he did not know that I was employed in government service. He had heard that I helped people with their little problems, and that I would be most discreet in such matters, and he wanted me to help him acquit his stepdaughter. Of course, I immediately knew what could happen, were the girl to be prosecuted. The coloured stepdaughter of a white naval officer being responsible for the deaths of two white men- the press would have a thing or two to say, that I could wager. I can only wonder that the Foreign Office did not pay more attention to this case. In any case, I told him that I could do nothing without more details, and therefore I referred him to you. He was a little reluctant at first, but I managed to convince him in the end."

"And a pretty little problem it is, Mycroft. Two deaths, hardly any circumstantial evidence, a prime suspect with a flimsy motive and a flimsier alibi, and a potential international scandal into the bargain!"

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Do you mean to imply that you do not wish to take on the case?"

"No, indeed. In fact, I shall be glad to do so. This is, I believe, very much in my line of work."

"Very well, then. Now, unless you have anything further to discuss, Sherlock, we shall rejoin our guest in the drawing-room."

When we returned, the captain was noticeably more composed than before.

"Well, Captain White," I said, resuming my seat, "your case is a most interesting one. I shall be happy to look into the matter."

The captain's eyes lit up.

"Thank you, sir," he said, gratitude and relief in his honest face. "I am not a very wealthy man, as you and your brother have noted, but I will see to it that you are rewarded justly if only you can help my daughter."

"We shall see, Captain White." I said, rising, as my guests rose. "I believe that the _HMS Ceylon _leaves Liverpool at ten o'clock on Monday. I shall be glad to accompany you to your home in Ceylon, if you wish it."

"Oh, most certainly," cried the Captain.

"Then it is settled. And now, good day to you both, for I believe I have some preparations to make for my journey."


End file.
